Kiealla has dark skin and a head full of black dreadlocks, which she keeps barely contained in a ponytail. Her amber eyes are bright and intense, and a faint, but distinct, scar adorns her cheek. Where once she would have been outfitted in well-worn leather armor with multitudes of hidden pockets for the tools of her trade, these days she is clad in nice, fitted, but simple-looking clothing. Her magical powers manifest themselves visibly, coursing and flickering faintly across her body at all times.

Bio:

Known only as Wind to those she worked for and her colleagues, Kiealla was an operative for the Cyran crown during the Last War. She was what they called a “Retrieval Specialist”, or what is more colloquially known as a thief. Her job was to acquire key documents and artifacts through any means necessary, and she excelled at getting herself into and out of any situation that arose. If she happened to pick up more than what was required, her employers simply looked the other way.

Kiealla didn’t work for the Cyran government by choice, however. At least, not at first. She grew up on the streets of Metrol as a blood member of the Leshander clan, a halfling organization which covered a mix of activities, from organized crime to protection for hire. From a young age, she was taught the profession of a rogue, and served her clan faithfully for many years, never questioning what they asked of her. Still, despite her service for halfling interests and the clan, they left her to the whims of the royal guards after a job gone horribly wrong. Kiealla was well known for her skill, and agents for the queen wore her down until she accepted a deal to work for the crown in exchange for freedom (and her life). Feeling betrayed by her people, she eventually threw herself into her new career wholeheartedly, and found the opportunities it presented suited her perfectly. The challenges and adventure it provided her meant she was using her skills to their fullest, and she took a lot of pride in her work.

Towards the end of the war, Kiealla was making a break for the Cyran border through Karnath, closely chased by agents of their government. Her extraction from her assignment hadn’t gone as smoothly as planned, and she hoped to take refuge in her home country’s familiar terrain. On the fifth day, she was worn and exhausted from the flight as she finally crossed the border, the Karnaths not far behind her. In the near distance, there was a grey mist quickly swallowing the landscape. She thought this odd, but kept running straight towards it, hoping to lose her pursuers. As soon as she entered the mist, a shock ran through her body, knocking her to the ground in overwhelming pain. Unsure if it was minutes or hours later, she collected herself and, with an uneasy feeling, knew she needed to get out of the mist as soon as possible. She dragged herself back towards the Cyre-Karnath border, resigned that she would be caught by those chasing her. It was a better option than staying in that eerie grey stillness a moment longer. As she crossed the border once more, the mist suddenly ended and her pursuers stood before her, dumbfounded by the wall of grey they faced. Then they saw Kiealla standing before them, and there were a few gasps as all of the soldiers turned and ran the way they came. Kiealla looked down at herself curiously, and was surprised to see she was glowing with a bright, magical fire, though she felt no heat. Nothing was the same for her after that day.

Over time, Kiealla came to terms with her new powers, though it was through much trial and error. Her life as a rogue as she knew it was behind her forever. Even the simple act of picking a pocket resulted with her target gone up in flames, or frozen solid. After the Mourning, she took refuge in the large city of Sharn, living on the streets and barely getting by on the few instances where she successfully stole food or money. It took a few years for her to gain any semblance of control over the magic coursing through her. Tired of subsisting on scraps, she was pointed by a friendly House Ghallanda worker to the Boromar halfling clan in the city, a mirror organization of the one that raised her. Their methods were more harsh than she was used to from the Leshander clan, but her intimidating appearance meant they had no trouble putting her to good use. Two years after the end of the war, she was living comfortably and never wanting for work, but she found herself empty and without purpose…